Whose desperate rage with remedie t’appease,
Warre rouz’d himselfe at home, who had of late
Slept in the bosome of pernicious hate:
And did incite them in pretence of good,
With their owne swords to let their bodies blood.
14.
O most remorselesse of that impious age,
That did not only then deny your aide
To your deare countrie, when with barbarous rage
The bordering foes her bosome did inuade,